


(everyday will be) like a holiday

by queerofcups



Series: fic advent 2017 [4]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Christmas Decorations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 18:26:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12917664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerofcups/pseuds/queerofcups
Summary: A little holiday decorating ficlet





	(everyday will be) like a holiday

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Every Day Will Be Like a Holiday.  
> Prompt was decorating their apartment for christmas at 3 am

There are baubles everywhere. Every direction Dan looks in there seems to be a shiny ball or icicle, the floor resplendent with tiny metal hooks just waiting to dig into a sock covered foot.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to do this,” he tells Phil, watching in horror as Phil places a family of bright, Christmas-themed minions on their newly purchased tree. “At least the rave tree was pre-decorated.”

“The rave tree was going to give someone a seizure,” Phil says, stepping back to observe his work. Which was odd, because his work was placing minions, which means it was God damned from the beginning.

“One of these decorations is going to give us tetanus,” Dan hisses. His knee bounces a little and desperately hopes it comes across as excitement and good nature in the vlog, rather than oh-god-it's-3am-why-am-i-awake caffeine jitters. Why couldn’t they have done this on a night when he’s naturally awake.

“You’re not going to get tetanus,” Phil says, sounding distracted as he looks at the floor, probably for more horrible decorations. “You’ve been inoculated for years. After that scare with the nail in the...place.”

Dan watches him wander away, still muttering about tetanus and his concerningly encyclopedic knowledge of Dan’s medical history.

“Where are you going?” Dan calls after him. Phil doesn’t answer.

Dan grimaces and looks at the tree. He’d envisioned something a bit classier, maybe silver lights on the dark green fake stems of the tree and nice silver and black baubles. He could even concede on the icicles. And those were there. Nestled amongst the anime characters and weird looking reindeer and homemade Pokemon tree hangings weighing their Christmas tree down. It looked like every interest they’d ever had had thrown up on the three.

Which, Dan supposes, is sweet.

When Phil wanders back in, he’s humming along with a pop punk rendition of All I Want For Christmas is You that’s probably going to get them another noise complaint, and he’s got a star in his hands.

“What’s this?” Dan asks, making grabby hands. “How long have we had this? You’re hiding things from me?”

Phil rolls his eyes and sits down on the chair, squishing Dan into one corner. “My mum sent it down. She had it made a few years ago.”

It's a star, but in the center is a photo of them, from their party the closing night of the UK leg of TATINOF. If Dan looks closely he can tell that they’re both blitzed, the red mark on his cheek is flaming and Phil’s got that vague smile that means he’s not entirely sure which direction he’s supposed to be looking in.

But from a farther away eye, maybe a mother who’s still pretending her son only gets respectably tipsy, and only on special occasions, the photo looks sweet. The two of them leaning against each other, Dan’s got an arm thrown around Phil’s neck and his body is turned more toward Phil than the camera. They look like they’ve been caught just about to kiss, the kind of photo they have so few of.

“This is the photo your mum chose?” Dan asks, pretending he’s not a bit choked up. “The one where we’re about to have a public snog?”

“A drunken one,” Phil agrees, pretending not to notice Dan’s a bit choked up.

“It’s terrible,” Dan tells him, tugging it out of his hand to put it on top of the tree.

They sit together on the couch, watching the tree flash and twinkle, surrounded by a million shiny balls, two overly sugary coffees and two cameras, the detritus of their lives.


End file.
